Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
“What? No—” I moan, but Sylvan chuckles and strokes my hand.
“It’s a tradition that will make our union all the sweeter.”
I suppose he might be right, no matter how much I resent that. I say my goodbyes with a kiss to his lips, and my chest tightens in longing the moment he leaves my sight.
I turn back to the platter of unfamiliar fruit on the table, but when my gaze drifts to the fresco, I once more wonder… Are there vampires here?
I don’t like that nobody answered my question.
Chapter 23
Sylvan
The tailors working on my clothes are so swift with their needlework my eyes can barely catch their movements, and I wonder if it’s a skill they’ve had to master to remake stolen goods into unrecognizable outfits. Still, I’ve been in this tiny black and white boudoir for over half an hour now, and I’m itching to get back to Hawk.
On the other hand, it’s given me an opportunity to consider the upcoming nuptials.
My stomach is in knots, so I’ve been refusing any food, and all I can think of is that I am about to make a bond for life with a human I’ve known for three days. It feels so very right in my heart, but my head is throbbing with worry. How will my mother react to a Dark Companion like Hawk? While she will surely appreciate his shadow, Hawk can be so brash, so forward. I appreciate his honesty, but what if it gets us in trouble at court? I will be bound to him forever after all, and therefore held responsible for his actions.
My mind stalls as I look into my own eyes in the big mirror with a little crack at the bottom. Is this really the way to think about the man who’s chosen me over his family? Over his world?
Guilt chews on my inside, and when it occurs to me I’m about to bite into my nail, I rub my face, torn between my feelings and the insistent need for my mother’s rare nod of approval. I’ve been conditioned to chase those since I was little.
“Having second thoughts?” asks the girl who led me here. She has bright red hair, eyes as brown as the strongest coffee, and a little mouse-shaped birthmark on her bare shoulder. At first glance, she appeared to be one of the many tavern workers, given that she’s wearing a no-frills apron and ties her locks back, but she hasn’t moved a finger since we entered, which tells me she might be someone of more note, even if her name, Ivy, is as common as they come.
I’m not used to speaking about my feelings. Even Hawk, who’s remarkably adept at pushing my boundaries, had trouble prying open my clam-like heart.
“Only nervous. This is a big commitment, and it must be made tonight, or I will have to wait another month.” Which would have been a very reasonable choice, yet the idea makes my nails itch to grow into shadow claws. Deep down, I don’t want to wait another minute, let alone a month. I want to be in Hawk’s arms all night and melt into him again.
But I’m stuck waiting for my jacket to be finished, and I don’t even know how the preparations are going on Hawk’s side, since he’s of substantial size, even for a human. After spending some time in the other realm, I can’t deny that they differ from us in shape—their limbs are somewhat shorter, bodies—sturdier and less agile. But even among his brethren, Hawk is a giant, and I cannot imagine there are any clothes his size at the inn. Which means they must be custom-made, which will likely prolong our time apart even more.
The seamstress adds a final button to my sleeve and steps away with a pleased smile. “Oh, that is perfection. The gold truly brings out your eyes.”
By Nocturne Court standards, my ensemble would be considered simple, and not at all wedding-worthy. Fitted black pants with golden embroidery, a shirt with a lace collar, and a short jacket to go with it in the same elegant color as the night sky. Tiny specs of crystals twinkle on it like stars, but I can’t stop feeling as though I should be wearing my family crest for the occasion. I have often resented my family, yet I am still a Goldweed, even if in exile.
“I cannot wait,” Ivy says, throwing her hands up as she slides off the windowsill, where she’s been sitting for the past thirty minutes. “I love weddings, but one with a human? That, I am waiting to see,” she tells me with a twinkle in her eye.
The two seamstresses leave after saying their goodbyes, and while I am still in the presence of a stranger I need to be mindful of, at least I’m no longer scrutinized from all sides. At court, I only ever trusted my housemaster with my clothing. He’s taken care of my attire since I was officially introduced to the rest of the aristocracy at the tender age of fourteen.